


The Dread Wolf's Betrayal

by superb_mediocrity



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dark Solas, Dragon Age Lore, Evanuris, F/M, Fen'Harel Smut, Fluff, Forgotten Ones (Dragon Age), Multi, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Sexy Solas, Smut, Solas Being Solas, Solas Smut, Solas Spoilers, Solas is Fen'Harel, Young Fen'Harel, Young Solas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:09:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superb_mediocrity/pseuds/superb_mediocrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dread-Wolf did not always wander alone. He had a companion; a lover—one who walked with him to rebel and lock away the ancient Gods of Arlathan.<br/>As a daughter of the Forgotten Ones, Eadalas has lived her entire life in darkness. Alone and isolated in the Forgotten Ones' kingdom under the earth, she thinks she has seen every evil imaginable until Solas comes and sheds light on the plight of the slaves in Arlathan. As they grow closer, Eadalas has to make a choice, follow in the steps of her kin, the Forgotten Ones, or help Fen'harel in his plan to destroy the Gods and put up the veil. By defying her very nature, Eadalas is certain that helping him may come with a price...but is it one that she is willing to make?<br/>Solas was ready to give up everything to bring his plan of destruction to fruition, but can he destroy their world and free the slaves if it means hurting someone he loves?</p><p>Based off of Dragon Age</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feel Free to comment/kudos. Feedback is awesome!!!!!!!!!

The spirits were restless; their chittering excitement nudging against the edges of Eadalas’ consciousness. Rising to her feet, she looked out to the farthest corners of her dream, peering into the blinding light that shone over the steadily waving plains. Behind her lay the swirling sea of darkness that marked the edge of the Abyss; a stark contrast against the bright hues of yellow, red, blue, and green that she had so lovingly used to furnish her creation. 

Eadalas stumbled as the ground shifted beneath her feet. Righting herself, she peered over her shoulder into the darkness behind her; something was amiss. Listening hard, she heard the rumbling crash of mountains falling, the wailing cries of the souls of lost dreamers being hunted by demons, and the screams of carrion birds as they sought their prey. She could hear the very essence of evil crackling, striking like lightning out from the very core of the deep.

“He is coming!” snickered the wisps, and then they disappeared into the darkness, giggling like children. 

They were right…something was coming, she could feel it peeling away at her mind. Layer by layer, it pulled, coming closer and closer to finding her. This was not the passing of a wandering dreamer, Eadalas mused, a sudden choking fear possessing her and causing the artificial sunlight to dim and almost flicker out. This was a rare magic, to alter the fade and encroach upon other’s dreams; a magic she had believed was limited only to herself. Steeling her mind against the intruder, she thought of how this was possible. It must be the work of someone powerful, she assumed, a lord among the mightiest of mages to have such a rare ability. 

Frightened, she called out to the darkness: “who is coming?”, hoping that the spirits and wisps hadn’t all fled in their excitement. “Who is it?”

“Fen'harel…Fen’harel…Fen’harel…”

It was the wisps again who answered. They rushed about sporadically, flocking from place to place like birds from tree to tree. Eadalas watched them, intrigued by their reaction. She had heard many tales of this “Fen’harel” though she had never seen him herself. He was said to be one of her own; kin by reputation to the Forgotten Ones, though he ruled mighty among the Evanuris. No doubt he had been raised to fame only to become fat and lazy on the backs of the thousands of worshippers at his righteous disposal.

That made her laugh, the sound carrying out across the plains only to drown in the velvet black of the void. This Fen’harel may be mighty in Arlathan, may be considered kin to her people, but here she was Lord and Master; the only one she knew who was able to bend and twist the fade at her whim. As though to prove her point, Eadalas raised her hand to the sky and clenched it into a fist, causing the remaining sunlight she had created to burst into flame. Bits of it fell, floating and landing softly like burnt parchment.

There was a sudden wailing from the Abyss behind her, and Eadalas clamped her hands over her ears. She had done too much, had shown too much, and they had seen. Turning to face the void, she peered down into the inky mists and watched as several dreamers stumbled blindly in the dark. Her throat constricted as she heard them calling out to her, cursing her and begging for escape. The selfish part of her wanted to remind them that they had come to her; that she had just wanted to hear their stories of life beyond the abyss and to watch their dreams, but she knew deep down that it was she who had been foolish…and now they were lost forever. 

Eadalas felt her heart twist in grief, and she reached out unthinkingly to help them. As soon as she made contact with the void, an icy pain lanced up her arm and through her entire body. She retracted her hand quickly and held it to her chest. Even as powerful as she was here, she was unable to help them, those poor souls, and thus they had become the unwitting victims of her own selfish greed. The dreamers cries eventually became muffled as they moved on, and Eadalas had to hold in her breath to keep herself from crying. 

With a shaky sigh, Eadalas turned back to look at the delicately colored expanse of her dream. The wisps were all but dispersed now, leaving only a few who wandered about, confused by the loss of their comrades. They whispered urgently across the plains, their voices shrill and bright. 

“He is coming, Fen’harel approaches! He is coming, he is coming!”

“Let him come” Eadalas responded confidently, completely unaware of the wolfish shadow that silently wandered the dark edges of the fade in the distance.


	2. A Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Solas begs an audience with the Forgotten Ones and Eadalas, daughter of Anaris--one of the forgotten ones-- is troubled by her dream of the fabled Fen'harel coming to the lands of her and her kin.

_Solas stood expressionlessly in front of a large, black eluvian that leaned precariously against an outcropping of dark, foul smelling stones. The marker rose high in the center of the crossroads; a dazzling sign warning away any that would dare attempt to travel through. Everything had lead him here, to this moment, and if Solas had been in the frame of mind to notice, he would have been disappointed by the state of things. The road there was cracked, the stones worn and crumbling from age and use. Infighting had destroyed much of what had been a beautiful place. Instead of providing a steady bloom, the trees had begun to die; the sky had darkened, and many eluvians had been destroyed. Of the ones that remained, a few were open; welcoming travelers from beyond. The others that weren’t destroyed were locked; protected by keystones or other devices to keep from letting strangers through._

_The one that stood before him now had no place for a keystone, no devices or wards attached; it was impenetrable in every way, or so it seemed. Grazing his hand lightly over the obsidian frame, Solas began to whisper, drawing from his mana until the remnants of the spell the muttered caused the earth around him to shake and the air to crackle with energy. Hand raised, Solas quickly glanced behind him to ensure he was alone, and took a hesitant step through the shining black surface._  
…  
It was warmth that eventually cause Eadalas to wake; the sensation clinging strangely to her skin and pervading the deepest corners of her dream. Reaching out blindly, she searched for the source of the heat, her arm eventually coming to rest around a pair of small shoulders that both welcomed, and returned the embrace. Blinking in the dim light, Eadalas opened her eyes to stare groggily upon the peaceful figure of her sister Hartha lying by her side, her even breathing making Eadalas’ arm rise and fall slowly as it moved in time to her breaths. 

Suddenly feeling feverish, Eadalas sat up, throwing the blanket off of herself and wholly embracing the feeling of chilly air as it tickled and teased her overly warm skin. Rising to her feet, she walked to the corner of the large room she and her sister shared, to the spot where a large, glittering washbasin lay. Splashing it liberally onto her face and neck, Eadalas shivered as she was jolted awake by the frigid water. Even though her dream still clung desperately to the edges of her mind, Eadalas imagined the memory of it drying up to nothing—its fear-laced edges growing soft and dim as she attempted to forget everything to do with the nightmares that continuously seemed to haunt her. Closing her eyes, she stood motionless over the basin, letting the liquid fall in streams down her face and finally onto the stone floor.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

The voice startled Eadalas out of her reverie, but she made no move to respond; her eyes remaining closed even as she felt a familiar yank on the edge of her braid. Leaning her head back, Eadalas felt her sister pull the ribbon that held her hair together, letting it fall free in loose waves down her back. She smiled as she felt the gentle tug of a comb as Hartha guided it through the tousled mess. 

“You spoke it more than once, Eada—that name. Who is this fen’harel? A spirit, a dreamer?”

“No one and nothing, Hartha. It’s just a dream.”

Hartha grabbed Eadalas by her upper arm, her unimaginable strength keeping Eadalas from yanking it away. Turning towards her sister, Eadalas let out an exasperated sigh, feigning annoyance at her siblings’ worried expression. 

“It is not nothing, Eada! I can see it eating away at you. Something is wrong…you have had the same dream for days. Maybe the spirits are right…it could be that something is coming….you must tell father...”

“Yes…I will.”  
…  
Solas felt his face grow pale as he descended a long stairway into a large, cavernous hall. The rhythmic clanging of his armored feet against the weathered stone was amplified, echoing strangely off of the walls. Steeling his gaze, he hoped the flickering greenish light emanating from the torches by his side would hide the fault in his complexion. Taking a deep breath, he descended the final stair, coming to stand in front of a trio of shrouded elves that sat facing him, the tall backs of their thrones rising up to connect to the ceiling like pillars. 

Bowing his head in respect, Solas addressed each of the three, being sure to keep his voice level and completely devoid of emotion.

“Geldauran…Anaris…Daern’thal. I come to you bearing an urgent request. As you have no doubt heard, Mythal is…dead.”

He was gifted with a collective gasp and jumbled whispers from those attending his audience, and Solas had to suppress his satisfaction with their response. Mythal’s greatness was imbedded deeply in the fabric of their world; so deep that even the forgotten ones knew of her power. If he was correct in his assumption, the news should startle the forgotten ones enough to incite some level of interest or unease.

“…The civil war between yourselves and the Evanuris must cease…” Solas’ voice was clear and strong, but still he faltered a moment, looking for the correct words to convince the council. This had to go just the right way if his plan was to succeed, otherwise….

Clearing his throat, Solas continued his speech, every word he uttered as carefully calculated as an arrow to the heart. On and on, he continued; revealing the myriad of monstrosities committed by both sides, sharing with them tales of the Evanuris’ greed, but gently reminding them of their own part in the war.

“My brothers, I do not bring you such news without cause. Without Mythal, the Evanuris will scatter. There will be death and destruction unhindered by Mythal’s protective leadership. My lords, the infighting will destroy us all entirely lest we stop immediately. Thus, I propose—“, but his words were forgotten as a soft swishing of fabric caught his attention. Turning his head toward the sound, he was astonished to see a woman walking swiftly towards them. She arrived in a flurry of snowy hair and apologies; curtseying as she quietly murmured something to Anaris. Rising from his throne, he grabbed the girl by her shoulders and lifted her up so she stood tall before him. 

Shifting his gaze back to Solas, Anaris regarded him stoically before speaking.

“Eadalas, say hello to our guest. He has travelled far to grace us with his presence, and it would be rude to not welcome him properly.” 

“Yes, father”

Eadalas? Where had he heard that name? Solas couldn’t help the furrow that marked his brow as he frantically tried to remember why it seemed familiar, but all his efforts were stopped short as she came to stand closer to him. 

She was a vision in a silver gown of the most delicate lace. The soft color complimented nicely her ivory skin and hair; the thin fabric doing little to hide the gentle curves of her body. She was tall, he noticed, almost as tall as himself, and walked with the lithe grace of dancer. Even in the flickering dark of the hall, Solas saw that her spirit shone bright and luminous, completely unlike the shrouded masters of disease and pestilence that surrounded them. Now standing directly before him, she offered Solas her hand, dropping down into a low curtsey as he kissed it. 

“As you were saying, _Fen’harel_?”

The girl glanced up in surprise at mention of his name, and Solas winced in embarrassment. He was not proud of the title he had earned among the forgotten ones; their barb even becoming popular among the evanuris. Solas squared his shoulders; no doubt he would find some way to covertly insult Anaris in the future, but this was not the time for his foolish ego to manifest.

He met the girls’ gray gaze without wavering, and was surprised to see her staring back at him with unabashed curiosity; those steely orbs dancing from his face, to his armor, staff, and other regalia. Bewildered by her attention, he forced himself to tear his eyes away from the girl and back to his audience.  
With a small smirk, Anaris sat back on his throne while the girl scurried off to stand by his side, her face now cast towards the ground. Lifting his head to meet their gazes once more, Solas raised his voice, feigning confidence as he regarded the elves in front of him, his eyes eventually coming to rest on Eadalas. 

“My lords, I propose a truce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all kinds of feedback, especially comments/kudos!  
> Also, feel free to follow me on TUMBLR : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/superb-mediocrity


	3. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of Solas' proposed "truce" are revealed, leaving Eada with an interesting part to play in his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long absence, dearies!!!!
> 
> As always, I love feedback, so feel free to comment / kudos!!

Eadalas stood still as the room burst into motion, her eyes never leaving the glittering figure of the armored elf in the center of the chamber. Rising quickly to his feet, Eada watched as her father beckoned to that strange visitor, Fen’harel, and exited the hall for a room located directly to his right. Geldauran, and Daern’thal shuffled quickly after him. The people around her hissed, “Fen’harel….Fen’harel” and Eada couldn’t help but think back to her dream the night before and how the wisps had chittered that name in the same fashion. Steadily, the noise increased; whispers, murmurs, and shouts growing in volume until Eada felt as though she were drowning in the sound. 

Taking a hesitant step towards Anaris, the elf glanced back towards the crowd of whispering people that blocked his only exit from the dank mountain keep. Desperate eyes danced through the sea of hostile faces, pleading for any sign of encouragement. Honestly, Eadalas couldn’t help but pity the fool. Try as he may, she knew there would be no convincing any of her kin to agree to peace with the Evanuris now; generations of bickering having led to a civil war that had all but destroyed the last remnants of her people. As if having heard her sympathetic thoughts amidst the sea of whispers, the elf shifted his gaze to where Eadalas stood quietly watching the proceeding with a ravenous curiosity. Startled, she gaped at him, her mouth an astonished “o” of surprise. He broke the contact moments later, and seemingly having decided on his trajectory, the elf took off after her father, his head held high as he crossed the threshold into the council chamber.  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
Pacing the length of the room she shared with her sister, Eadalas worried a long tuft of hair that had fallen loose from its tie, taking the soft edge and twirling it between her fingers. A stern knock set the hair free, and Eada jumped to attention, opening the door wide to reveal a small company of her father’s men.

“My lady, we are here—“

“Yes, yes!” Adjusting the front of her dress, Eada turned to look once more at the room before gesturing to the guard to lead the way. 

“I suppose they must be in a terrible rush.”

Although she spoke out loud, Eada didn’t really expect an answer, and was surprised when the guard answered her by explaining the exact state the entire hold had been sent into since the arrival of the mystical kinsman. Eada spared him no attention, choosing to place her focus instead on the icy bite of the pendent that hung around her neck. Unused to the sensation, Eada placed her hand against the fabric that covered jewel, pressing it firmly to her chest. The necklace warmed as they descended the tower and made their way through to the main hall. 

Somebody spoke to her once they reached their destination, but she didn’t have the wits to respond. Looking around, Eada searched for any trace of her sister in the small crowd that had gathered to see them off, but there was none to be seen. Just as well, Eada mused to herself glumly, it would have complicated things to have her there anyway.

Eada gasped as she was taken in for a stiff hug; shocked to feel the sharp edges of something being pressed firmly into her palm as her assailant pulled away. Deliberately, her father’s cool hand folded hers into a fist around the object; giving her a subtle squeeze and an encouraging smile. Then an incantation was uttered, and the doors opened to reveal darkness spotted by a glimmering sea of stars. Dazed, Eada took a step towards the twinkling lights that littered the inky expanse above, breathless from an appreciation only true of those who have gone the entirety of their lives without having seen such majesties of nature in person.

Before she had regained the presence of mind to turn around and bid her father farewell, she heard the whisper of an incantation, and a screech as the ancient doors scraped closed. The doors were quickly replaced by a rocky ridge, indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain. Left with only the light of the stars, Eada turned to look at her silent companion for the first time since she had witnessed him enter her home all those days ago. Now he stood beside her, expressionless, his eyes on the same dancing lights she had just admired a moment ago. 

“So, how far away is this eluvian supposed to be?” she muttered, her voice barely loud enough to be heard; though he seemed to have no trouble hearing her.

“At the temple of Anaris, just below. We should be there by dawn.” 

Without another word, he turned away from her and began on the rocky path down the mountain. Looking back towards where the large double doors had once been, Eada let a few tears fall unchecked. Suddenly remembering the sharp edges that continued to jab into the sensitive flesh of her palm, she opened her fist to find a folded paper. Unfolding it between the silent sobs that wracked her core, she saw that it contained only a single line of words written in the flowing, elegant script of her father. 

_**“Any door will open, if you have the right key. Remember your purpose, and all shall be well. ”**_

Crumpling the page, Eada stuffed it deep into the small bag at her hip, and took a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in her life.


	4. Exploring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eada explores Fen'harel's home and finds more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Love Feedback! Feel Free To Leave Comments / Kudos!!

“What a way to treat a guest”, Eadalas mumbled sarcastically as she brought a delicate crystalline glass to her lips. The crimson liquid burned as she drank, and her eyes rammed closed as she strained to swallow the sour stuff. Holding the glass with both hands, so as to avoid any accident, Eada placed it gingerly on the table. 

As soon as she had set it free, a servant appeared, bottle in hand, ready to fill the glass again. _Where had he come from?_ Rolling her eyes, Eada motioned for the elf to stop. She couldn’t stand another taste of that horrible stuff. Standing abruptly, she pushed back her chair with a loud scraping sound that sent a dozen previously hidden servants into a nervous shuffle. Striding quickly across the large dining room, she passed into one of the side halls, marked in her memory by the large tapestry that hung over the archway. It depicted a hunting scene; a pack of wolves chasing a rabbit, while one solitary creature howled from afar. It was a typical tapestry of the type popular just a few centuries previous. Eadalas could recall at least 3 of similar style in her father’s council chamber alone. 

Turning to the guard stationed by the archway, Eada attempted to put on her most fetching smile. Being summoned like a dog to a meal by an invisible host, and then being made to wait and eat entirely alone was on Eada’s short list of atrocities committed against her for which she felt she deserved recompense.

He was a rather serious looking thing, with furrowed brows and pursed lips. She was pleased to see that even for all his rigid comportment, he wasn’t horrible to look at; her sister would have been pleased. Eada’s grin widened as she placed a small hand on the guard’s shoulder. As she did so, reluctant memories of the sordid games they would play with the priests’ apprentices bubbled in her throat, bringing with it the unmistakable taste of honeyed wine and forbidden kisses. Stifling her laughter, Eada placed her hand on the guard’s cheek, an idea beginning to form.

“Would you be willing to point me towards your master’s chambers, dear one?” Her voice was low, soft, and she accentuated the endearment with a slow caress of the elf’s jawline. The magic flowed out from her effortlessly, so potently, that Eada almost believed she could see the evidence of the spell leaving her body; a smoky translucence that danced from her fingertips to bend the world to her will.

Eada was almost impressed by his effort; the only break in his resolve being the way the rigid corners of his mouth softened as she moved her index finger to trace the curve of his bottom lip. He seemed conflicted for a moment, confused by the proceedings, but after some careful cajoling on Eada’s part, he pointed somewhere to her right, and stumbled out a set of useless directions.

It was too easy.

The entertainment over, Eada’s smile dropped. Pulling back her hand, she adjusted the small silver chain that continuously teased her neck, stopping to finger the smooth, luminescent jewel at the center. “And, please tell Fen’harel…” his name hissed between the tight lines of her lips as she spoke, “…that he was desperately missed at dinner.” 

Before leaving, she recognized the faint lines of a Vallaslin on the face of the guard. So they use their common slaves as guards now? Such power would have never been given to a mere servant at her father’s palace. What strange customs they have in Arlathan. She wondered briefly at the capacity of the guard to even deliver the message, and decided she ultimately didn’t care. She didn’t mind being ignored; her presence here was mostly symbolic anyway. 

Content with her newfound information, she busied herself wandering the grand castle, choosing first to explore the secret set of rooms that belonged to her mysterious host. She rationalized her rather nefarious intentions by reasoning that since he never explicitly stated that his rooms were off-limits, that she was free to explore them at her leisure.   
What’s more, his abject refusal to accommodate her adequately as a guest of some import to his plans for a truce here on the other side of the world left her with the taste of metal in her mouth; a sensation that worsened as the days wore on with no word from the infamous Fen’harel.

Even for all her anger, Eada had to admit that his home was beautiful. It was bright and large, with whole rooms dedicated to the various pursuits that amused her host. One room for music; instruments large and small scattered among plush furniture. Another revealed itself to be full of chests and strange looking fabric. Yet another held longbows, broadswords, and delicately carved staffs, all tossed about without much care. It seemed odd to her that his servants, so attentive to her every whim at dinner, would have allowed his weaponry, elegant by anyone’s standards, to fall into such chaos. One room in particular caught her eye, an enormous library filled wall to ceiling with thousands of books. Taking note of its location, she moved on; tiptoeing through the unfamiliar halls and learning the inhabitants of every room until she felt as familiar with the contents of the place as the dreaded wolf himself. 

Slipping silently down a flight of stairs, Eada smiled as she happened upon what could only be the food cellar. She had wandered through dozens of empty, hidden hallways and brightly colored rooms to reach this point— _hours of work it seemed, or maybe just a few minutes?_ —not even bothering to wonder whether there were servants around to catch her snooping. The walls were covered with shelves of food and drink; grains, cheeses, and various other tasty things. Barrels upon barrels of who-knows-what divided the rows and rows of food. Wandering through the stacks, Eada found a basket of covered cakes. Taking a pinch of the soft dough, she put the morsel on her tongue, delighting at the wicked sweetness that pinched her cheeks. Discovering a delicately adorned bottle of the softest, earthy green, Eada grabbed a sweet cake to accompany the liquor, and traipsed through the nearest door, excited to see what lay beyond. 

Her expectations outshone reality as she stumbled through another maze of corridors and stairwells. Upon entering a large, echoing chamber that she could only understand to be the bowels of the palace, Eada made to turn back, searching for the door she had just arrived through. However, upon her examination of the area, she could find no stairway that would lead her back upstairs. Taking a bite of the pastry, Eada considered her surroundings as she explored the giant room; washing down the sugary taste with the contents of her stolen bottle. 

A sudden sharp burst of energy lancing off of her skin made Eada jump, and she stumbled to attention, crouching low to find the source of the attack. Everything seemed hazy in the dim light of the windowless hall; the silky liquid from the cellar doing much to dull her senses. She would have no luck fending off any opponent this way; she needed to find a corner, a wall, anything to limit the range of whatever pursued her. 

Another electrical jab of energy towards her throat made Eada sputter in surprise, the attack followed by the unmistakable hiss of concentrated magic. The pain of the hit blocked everything else out, so that all Eada could see was a pulsating flush of bright light that danced behind her eyelids; glowing specks of pain taking up the center of her consciousness. As she writhed in the darkness, the hunting scene from the tapestry in the dining room came to mind; a grim determination to kill or be killed settling like scalding stones in her stomach. Deciding she wasn’t going to follow in the steps of the rabbit, Eada stumbled to her feet, blinded by an indescribable agony. Attempting to remember the lifetime of training that she always believed would be useless, Eada called out to her opponent in the semi-darkness, surrounding herself with wards and defensive spells; desperate for any sign of the culpable party. 

Bathed in the crackling quiet of the hall, she called out again, the soft padding of her feet on the stone floor the only sound as she moved towards the center of the room. As she walked, she could feel the magical presence in the room suddenly dissipate; the hissing energy that had filled her ears just moments before diminishing to nothing, and leaving her head mercifully clear. Clawing at her neck where she had felt the attack, Eada yelped as her fingers brushed against the sensitive skin, her flesh impossibly hot to the touch.

Moaning in agony, she fell to her knees, and wondered where her assailant had gone. Pushing the soft flesh of her palms against her burning skin, Eada murmured a few words, sighing in relief as the worst of her pain was alleviated. As she recovered, broken and huddled on the floor, the depiction of the hunting scene fluttered lazily throughout her head.

Suddenly, the sound of clinking glass alerted Eada to a presence, and she looked to her left to find a small archway that she was sure hadn’t been there before. As she drifted towards unconsciousness, she imagined holding the heavy fabric of the tapestry, cutting the strings that kept the rabbit trapped, and watching him dash and weave from border to border as the wolves trailed uselessly behind; too slow and weak to catch up. Before darkness took her, she imagined how they would explain to her father that the mighty Fen’harel had let her succumb to injury right under his very nose. _Perhaps, it was Fen’harel himself who had led this attack?_ Eada supposed that a murderous hatred would explain his lack of presence since her arrival. 

In any case, her father would not be pleased.


	5. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eadalas recovers from her strange attack in Fen'harel's home, and she wonders about the full extent of the elusive mage's involvement in her accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love feedback! Let me know how I'm doing! 
> 
> Also, so sorry for the long absence! I recently graduated / moved to another country so everything has been crazy!

Convalescence suited Eadalas well. She loved to be waited upon, and delighted in the care of healers and servants as they fussed over her. Her father’s kingdom, though cold and dark, had been a wonderful source of such attentions; full of people with no other duty than to satisfy her every whim. Her sister Hartha had been a boon in such times as well; creating little games to play and ways to subtly antagonize the other children their age in order to pass the time.  
Fen’harel’s home was very different. 

Once her story was told and her injuries declared “non-threatening”, Eadalas was left to take care of herself. There were no healers to hear her complaints, and no servants stayed around long enough to dote over her in the manner to which she had grown accustomed. Alone in her chambers and completely without distraction, Eadalas was forced to relive the hazy memory of her time on the floors below, and to ponder the lingering absence of her host; whom she firmly believed had some role to play in her attack.  
Her accusations fell on deaf ears, and to be honest Eadalas wasn’t sure why she expected any different. His servants and guards, as pathetic and common as they were, displayed a degree of loyalty to their master that was difficult for Eadalas to understand.

_**Perhaps this Fen’harel is a mighty mage**_ , her hand shook as she wrote the words on a piece of tear-stained parchment, _**powerful enough to control the very hearts and minds of the people who serve him.**_

“Hmph, that’s doubtful.”

She spoke the words aloud, her voice carrying strangely in the large, sun-drenched room. A throbbing twinge on her neck made her whimper, and she clutched the pendent hanging from her throat.

_**He had something to do with this, Hartha, I feel it, and I plan to find out exactly what role he played, and for what purpose.** _

She didn’t mention the terrible fear that clawed at her heart, nor the strange manners of the servants. It was best, in Eada’s mind, not to encumber her sister with silly details—at least not until Hartha expressed some interest and wrote her back. 

_She must be terribly angry with you to not return your letters_ , a small voice in Eadalas’ head insisted, _she probably hates you…Father too. Why else would he send you away?_

Eadalas shook the tears from her eyes and signed her name with a flourish; flouncing out of her chambers and promptly handing the folded paper to a passing servant. 

“Here, have this sent out as soon as possible.”

She placed a hand on her hip, waiting expectantly for the servant to acknowledge her instructions. The man’s eyes never wavered; his gaze fixed on the opposite wall. 

“Well?” Eadalas stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her.

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Thank you, pet,” she softened her tone, extending a hand to rest on his own. A small thrill went through her when she felt him shudder at her touch, but her curiosity took precedence over her desire to toy with him, and she let her arm fall away.

“Did anything come for me today?” she prodded, her breath catching in her throat, “any letters, or…”

“No, my lady.” The servant’s curt reply cut Eadalas to the core, though the answer wasn’t unexpected.

“Well, just…” her voice shook, betraying her emotion, “just have my dinner sent up to my room, then.”

“Yes, my lady.” 

Hiding the heat that flooded her cheeks, she turned swiftly away and stormed into her chambers. The fading sunlight cast her room in a strange semi-darkness that created distorted shadows that reminded her of her home beneath the mountains. The thought made her chest ache, and she immediately resolved to comfort herself in the only way she knew.

Flitting to the vanity by the window, Eadalas sat and stared at herself in the mirror. Ignoring the fading red mark that stained her neck and chest, she took out the pins holding her hair and let the ivory locks tumble over her shoulders and down her back. Choosing a brush from the table, she closed her eyes and began to comb away the tangles; imagining that it was her sister brushing her hair and that they were safe and comfortable in the familiar halls of home.

.....................................................................................................................................................................................

Eada was lost; stuck in a maze of corridors and rooms that had no conceivable end. Picking up her skirts, she tried to run, rushing through innumerable hallways and doors, but to no avail. The smell of decay hung in the air, pricking at her skin and making her feel as though a thousand eyes were following her every step. In the distance something shrieked, and Eadalas fell to the ground in a heap, uttering a soundless scream that was answered by a dozen claws and beaks as carrion birds ripped and tore through her skin; cutting her flesh to the bone. 

“Stop!” she screeched, but the pestilential horde ignored her command and continued their attack. “You must stop. I demand that you leave me be!”

“It’s no use, he sees you!” A wisp answered her call, singing in her ear, “he seeees youuu!” 

“Who?” Eadalas sobbed, screaming as the birds pecked at her eyes and lips.

“Him!” The wisp held out his arms as if to embrace her, “the dreaded Fen’harel!”

“Fen’harel?” 

“Don’t you see him?” The wisp snickered, its eyes turning a bloody shade of scarlet as he regarded Eadalas’ cowering form, “well, he sees you, and he’ll throw you into the Darkness just like you did to the others!”

.......................................................................................................................................................................................

“My lady?” 

Eadalas awoke with a start, still clutching the silver handle of her brush. Lifting her head, she regarded the woman who had entered her room through the mirror, her body encased in a shining aura of light from the hall.

“Hmm?” Eada smoothed her hair and rose, “You can put my dinner over—“ 

“Oh, no my lady,” the woman lowered her head, and Eadalas tapped her foot in annoyance, “My Master requests your presence. He insists that it is urgent.”

“Your master…” Eadalas felt her heart drop into her stomach, the remnants of her nightmare still echoing in her ears.

“Yes. I am to bring you to him immediately, my lady. If you would follow me.”


	6. Misbehaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summoned by Fen'harel to discuss something "important", Eadalas quickly becomes frustrated by his prolonged absence and attempts to play a malicious trick on the trickster himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! I thrive on feedback in every form, so don't be shy!!
> 
> <3 <3 <3

_I thought this was supposed to be urgent._

Eadalas brought a steaming cup of tea to her lips, her eyes wandering over her surroundings with poorly suppressed curiosity. A light, floral fragrance drifted up from the drink in her hand, and Eada breathed it in; letting it wash away the memory of her nightmare. The fading daylight drowned the room in a soft, honeyed glow, and she soon found herself completely captivated by the sun’s gradual descent in the distance. Once the moon became visible on the horizon, however, Eadalas felt the last bit of her patience wear away. 

“I am not a dog!”

She rose from her chair and slammed her empty cup on a nearby table. As she turned to leave, a glimmer caught her eye. Strutting towards the corner of the room, Eadalas was shocked to see a large collection of mismatched jewelry, each piece shimmering brightly in the moonlight. 

Picking up a silver bracelet, Eadalas held it to her skin; marveling at the way it glowed. When she set it down, she felt a sudden loss of energy that made her eyelids droop.

“They must be enchanted,” she murmured as she caressed a heavy ring in amazement. Items of that sort were in short supply at her father’s palace, and were usually limited to priests or important officials. Her palm tickled with electricity as she held the token, and she smiled to herself; an idea forming. 

_Such pretty things, and so many. I wonder if he’d even notice…_

After tucking the ring and necklace into her bodice, Eadalas quickly scattered a few pieces of the remaining jewelry around the room; hiding them behind books, under papers, and within the drawers littering the large space. 

It was a simple prank, but effective, and she knew deep down that Hartha would have been pleased. 

Proud of her handiwork, she skipped towards the door; giving the twinkling night sky one last glance before she burst into the hall.

“No, my lady,” a hand reached out, gripping her shoulder, “my Master asked that you wait—“

“How dare you!” Eadalas whipped around, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She had never been touched before by a slave, at least not without plenty of encouragement on her part, and was amazed by Fen’harel’s complete lack of control when it came to the management of his subordinates. 

The servant’s face fell in shame, but not before she recognized the pouting lips of the guard that had given her directions to her host’s private rooms the other night. Her anger quickly dissipated, replaced by a perverse excitement as she remembered the stolen jewels.

Placing a finger under his chin, she lifted his head and smiled; pleased by the lusty haze that settled deep in his eyes at her touch. Bringing her face close to his, she inhaled, and followed the lines of his vallaslin with her finger.

“I’m sorry for snapping, dear one,” she caressed his cheek, “but you gave me a fright!”

“I…” he gulped as Eadalas’ hand drifted down to his neck, “I’m supposed to tell you…”

“Yes?” Eadalas continued her magical assault, and grinned once he stumbled backwards towards the wall.

“My lord was called away for a moment but he has asked that you stay—“

“Called away? Was he ever even here? I’ve yet to see him!” Eadalas smiled and dropped the ring she had taken into his pocket, brushing purposefully against his inner thigh.

“He’s…he’s…”

Eadalas held a finger to the servant’s mouth.

“You can tell your master that I am not a _dog_ to jump at his every command, nor am I a _slave_ to wait on him and run about as he pleases.”

She pressed her lips against his, kissing him firmly and flooding the guard with more magic. His breath caught audibly in his throat, making Eada grin. Quickly snapping the clasp of the silver bracelet, she stealthily secured it to the guard’s wrist, and backed away to admire her work. 

“If your Fen’harel wishes to speak with me, he can find me in my room. As can you, my dear.” She winked at the guard who stood shaking against the door-frame, and spun around towards the main hall.

“You mean _my_ room, of course? After all, you are a _guest_ in these halls, _my dear_.”

An icy chill ran down Eadalas’ spine, and she stumbled backwards; falling flush against the trembling guard behind her. Regaining her composure, she squared her shoulders and stood tall, a retort ready to burst from her lips. As she smoothed her dress, she stomped up to her oddly disheveled host; eager to give him a piece of her mind. 

Before she could utter a word, he pushed past her, knocking her to the side and extending a hand to the ashen faced guard. Lifting the boys arm, he examined the bracelet around his wrist and undid the bindings. Patting him down, her host soon found the ring Eadalas had hidden away in his pocket, and held it to the light. 

_How did he know?_

Eadalas gaped at him in shocked silence, completely taken aback by his rough treatment of her and the apparent obviousness of her ploy.

“I’ll make this brief.”

Tucking the jewel away, he turned to face her, anger written clearly in his eyes.

“ _We_ have been invited to dinner tomorrow. _Both_ of us shall attend, and _you_ will behave while we are there.”

_Was this a joke?_

“Hmph” Eadalas smirked and rolled her eyes, “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t—“

“Be quiet!” The man stormed towards her, and Eadalas had to fight against the urge to cower beneath the force of his gaze. 

“You have been nothing but trouble since I met you.”

"I—" Eadalas’ retort was silenced by the loud smack of his hand against the stone wall behind her. 

“Do not speak!" he hissed, "this dinner is important and requires our attendance. So, you _will_ go. You _will_ behave. You _will_ do your job. You _will stop_ manipulating my servants. Is any of this confusing for you?”

Eadalas shook her head, completely at a loss for words.

“Good. I’ll have the dress you are to wear sent up to _your_ room. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding your way considering your _thorough_ exploration of my home.”

His sarcasm made Eadalas’ blood boil, but he pranced through the door before she could defend herself, dragging the stunned guard in behind him.


	7. Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go exactly as they should with Fen'harel's ward at the dinner party. Afterwards, she has a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to comment / kudos. I love to know how I'm doing, especially with a story like this!!
> 
> <3 <3 Love for all!

She was a goddess, divine, a queen among paupers.

Or, at least that is what Eadalas told herself as she was lead into the dinner party.

From person to person she was ushered, escorted all the while by a beaming Fen’harel as he introduced her to his friends. 

_Shoulders straight, Eada._

The years of her mother’s instruction echoed in her skull like a song.

_Nose up, gaze down!_

_Now…smile._

Following Fen’harel dutifully, Eadalas glided across the marble floor like a dancer being passed from partner to partner. She was sure to be agreeable, of course; to compliment every other person she was forced to converse with on some trinket or other superficial aspect of their person. Her words, as expected, flowed naturally; their existence sprung forth by a lifetime of training in the art of pleasantries and shallow conversation. However, as she made her way through the immense crowd, she couldn’t help the feeling of unease that crept along the base of her skull. 

She was being watched.

Eada clutched the pendant dangling from her neck, searching for comfort as she wandered the gardens in search of the root of her concern, but everyone seemed preoccupied with their own diversions as they enjoyed the party. Trepidation clinging to her heels, she followed her companion; all smiles and coy remarks as she observed each group. _Who was it?_ It could be anyone that had gathered to dine that night, any one of the hundreds who were sworn to bring her father’s house to ruin. 

And then she saw it—a ghostly flash of silver against white marble. 

Eada shivered. _You’re just seeing things, it couldn’t be._

Ignoring her instinct to flee, she dropped her head and went inside. 

The food they were presented was bland, overall devoid of taste and overcompensating in complexity. Eadalas was certain that the slaves at her father’s palace were fed richer meals, and she could not recall a single time she had eaten anything so lacking in flavor while she had lived there. 

They were served in a series of courses, each prettier than the last. No matter the course, however, everyone’s plate was filled in a slightly different manner, and no two guests were given the exact same spread. Throughout dinner, Eadalas picked at her food, her mind too consumed by the nausea bubbling in the pit of her stomach to remember her manners. 

The only thing that Eadalas could tolerate was the wine, which seemed to flow from the cellar as water would from a spring. Though it took her a couple of glasses, she eventually became accustomed to the syrupy sweet concoction, and found herself drinking it with alarming frequency. It was very potent, the girl came to realize, and had a strange effect much akin to the sensation of being in close proximity to extreme heat, only instead of burning her, the warmth prickled and teased her skin so that she felt as though her entire body was glowing from within. It even made her forget the strange tingle of apprehension that had gnawed at her for most of the night, and her comportment improved dramatically with every pass of the veiled slave assigned with refilling their glasses. 

“I’ve never seen a complexion quite like yours, and that hair—like a beam of the purest light.”

A fiery eyed youth to Eada’s side extended a hand and took a fistful of hair. 

Eadalas laughed, a shrill, involuntary sound, and watched in horror as her neighbor rubbed the edges of her hair with his fingertips. The girl tried to meet Fen’harel’s gaze, but her new housemate was pink-cheeked and blurry eyed as he buried himself deeply in wine and discussion with another guest. 

“Fascinating.” The youth was close enough that the girl could feel the heat from his skin and smell the bittersweet fusion of his breath, but whether it was her surprise or the drink, Eada found herself unable to move. “Are little dolls like you common under the mountains, or is beauty like yours a rarity?” 

Eada shook her head, unsure if she was responding to the question or his proximity, and attempted to focus her bleary eyes. 

“I would like to see more, in any case.” A hand made its way beneath her dress and gripped her thigh, causing Eada to cry out in astonishment. “No need to be coy, love,” he continued, “I’ve watched you making eyes at everyone all evening. It’s clear you want something, and I am more than willing to give it to you.” 

“How dare—“she began, but her protest was silenced by a sloppy kiss. 

“More wine?” Out of nowhere, the veiled servant stopped to refill their glasses. The interruption spurred Eadalas into action, and she used it as an opportunity to escape. 

“Actually,” Eadalas rose to her feet and smoothed her dress, “I wanted to thank the host. I would be neglectful of me to leave before paying my respects for this lovely meal. If you would excuse me…?”

“Elvarnas, my beauty.” The man grinned crookedly, exposing a set of gleaming, pearlescent teeth. 

Eadalas couldn’t help but smile as she imagined the tortured pitch of his desperate wails as she yanked out each and every one. 

“Elvarnas. It was a pleasure. We must talk again soon. If I may…”

“Of course.” The man bowed, and snatched Eada’s hand from her side to bring it to his lips. “Don’t be a stranger. As I said, I would love to see more of you.”

The innuendo dripped from his tongue like honey, and Eadalas had to swallow the bile that rose to her throat. Without a word, the girl stumbled away towards the shadows, desperate to be alone. Before she could get far, however, something rushed into her, causing her to trip over the edge of her dress and fall against the wall.

“Excuse me!” Eadalas shrieked, her anger rising as she took in the shrouded image of the serving girl once again. When the slave didn’t answer, Eada strode towards her, her vision clouding with drunkenness and rage, and grabbed the girl by the shoulder.

“I am talking to you, slave!” A burgundy spot on her sleeve caught Eadalas’ attention, and she followed the mark to the center of her dress where she noticed a large, wet stain.

“Ugh!” Eadalas’ voice rose and she gripped the slave’s arm even harder. “Look at what you’ve done to my dress, you stupid cow!” 

Eadalas lifted her hand to strike the other girl, but her blow was rendered useless as the servant wrapped her fingers around her wrist.

Eadalas was shocked and took a step towards the servant. “How dare you touch me, don’t you know who I am?” 

“Shut up!” The girl twisted her arm sharply to the side, and Eadalas found herself being pulled into an adjacent room. Eadalas tried to scream for help as her vision swam, but the other girl was faster and put a hand over her mouth.

No longer caring about whether she appeared rude, Eadalas drew as much magic as she could and directed it towards the other girl. The slave dodged her attack easily, and wrapped Eada into a stiff embrace.

“That was sloppy, sister. Been sampling the wine, have you? Or has time with this herd of swine made you soft?”

Eadalas stilled as shock overtook her, and peered beneath the gauzy veil covering her assailants face. Off to the side, Eada noticed a sliver of snowy, white hair and her jaw dropped.

“Hartha! How did you…?”

“Mother’s eluvian,” she stated matter-of-factly, a smirk raising the corner of her mouth.

Eadalas wrapped her arms around her sister’s small shoulders and beamed as her affection was returned. “It still works? I thought it was destroyed with the others?”

“It’s barely functional. It doesn’t have a direct route to the crossroads, but, after some looking around, we managed...speaking of which…” Hartha pulled a crumpled paper out of her sleeve. “You need to be more careful with your correspondence. Limit it to emergencies. I’m sure your letters are being read before they are sent out.” 

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Eadalas murmured as snatched the parchment from Hartha. Grinning with excitement, she unwrapped the paper like a child would a present and took a quick peek at the words laid out in her father’s scrawling script.

“This is... How? Why?” Eada peered at the words again, shaking her head in disbelief. 

"If you really were attacked like you told me, then it’s important that you do what Father says.”

Eadalas waved the paper in front of her sister’s nose. “This is impossible! How am I… Why would I do this? Wouldn’t it jeopardize everything this treaty is supposed to accomplish?”

“Figure it out, Eada!” Hartha gripped her shoulder, her fingernails burying themselves deeply into her skin. “Father has to protect you. Our family’s reputation is riding on your success. If you aren’t willing to do what it takes… then give the job to someone who can and is willing to do what needs to be done.” 

“Someone like you, you mean?” The words burst like venom from Eadalas’ lips, and she regretted them instantly. 

Hartha adjusted the veil so that it distorted her features once more. “I’ve stayed too long, I was only meant to deliver father’s instructions.”

“Hartha, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“No more letters.”

As quickly as she had appeared, Hartha was gone, and Eadalas was left alone in the dark; hot, stinging tears rolling down her cheeks as she clutched her father’s letter to her wine stained gown. 

 

......................................................................................................................................

 

The following morning found Eadalas wandering through Fen’harels home in a daze, her footsteps haunted by the memory of the dream she had just left. In her mind, she could still feel his teeth in her palm, those beautiful round balls of bone, each with their roots covered in a velvet sanguinity that dripped through Eadalas’ fingers like honey.

As she passed through the hallway towards the dining room, Eadalas smiled, comforted by the sharp screams singing in her ears; the sound teasing her flesh and causing her skin to break out in a rash of goosebumps as she relived every detail. 

_Why?_ Elvarnas’ eyes had pleaded with her. Beaming at her work, Eadalas had lifted her hand to the sky and dimmed the sunlight she had created so that the world was cast in shadow. The howls from the abyss had grown louder as she dragged her prey to the darkened edge of her consciousness; the demons who hunted there allured by the moans of pain and fear coming from the man beside her.

Stooping low, she had pressed her lips against his and murmured a spell, the metallic taste of his blood overwhelming her senses as an influx of images burst into her mind. _His dreams._ She sighed in satisfaction as he stared at her, his eyes cloudy as he shivered in terror.

“It’s been nice seeing you, again, _love_ ,” she had whispered, licking her lips clean as she nudged him over the cliff and into the void. 

 

Allowing the dream to trickle away with the rising sun, Eadalas found a seat at Fen'harel's table, and waited for the slaves to bring her breakfast.


End file.
